Phantom Limb
by MsComrade
Summary: Sanji would never hesitate to take a hit for his crewmates, especially Zoro. But will the cook ever be able to recover from this devastating injury?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I still don't own One Piece.

He didn't know why he did it.

No. That was a lie. He knew exactly why he did it. That marine's attack would have hit the shitty swordsman. The same shitty swordsman that was currently yelling at him. Sanji furrowed his brows, watching Zoro's angry expression. He couldn't hear what the moss head was saying, but it was obvious the larger man was fuming. The blonde caught something else flicker across the swordsman's face. Fear? Sanji tried to open his mouth and tell the idiot to shut up and get back to the fight, but his body wouldn't respond. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. All he could do was stare. His eyes moved from the swordsman to the fight still raging around them. The marines somehow managed to catch them off guard. Whoever their commanding officer was must have done his research, because these guys weren't the typical run of the mill marines. Oh no, these guys were skilled, and to make it worse they were armed to the teeth with all sorts of weird weapons. He caught sight of their furry doctor running toward them, a look of panic on his face. He wished he could tell them he was fine. They really shouldn't be wasting their time on him, there were still more marines swarming the deck of the Sunny. His head lolled forward on his chest, suddenly too heavy to lift up. Blue eyes locked on the blood pooling around him in the spot where his left leg used to be. He was fine.

The swordsman grabbed his shoulders roughly and shook him, making his head flop back against the wall. All anger had left the swordsman's face, instead, mossy eyebrows were pulled together in a look of worry. Sanji wished he could tell him how stupid he looked. The blonde felt himself being pulled against the swordsman's chest gently. As mortified as he was that Zoro was carrying him like some damsel in distress, he was grateful for the heat that emanated from the swordsman. It was so cold. The cook could have sworn that their beautiful navigator said they'd be approaching a summer island, but right now he couldn't feel his fingers. In fact, his whole body was staring to be enveloped in that numbing cold. That was okay though, because he was fine. Pressed up against the swordsman, he could feel the larger man's heart thrumming away in his chest in a harsh rhythm. He felt himself slipping, the staccato beats of Zoro's pulse slowly lulling him. The goading fingers of sleep caressed his aching body, a small nap wouldn't hurt right? Sanji let his eyes slip shut, oblivious to the sounds of Zoro desperately calling his name.

* * *

Sanji groaned. No matter how many times it happened, the morning after a battle was always the worst. Everything ached, trying to move wasn't even an option. It felt like his body was made out of lead, and even the slightest twitch was sending electrical bursts of pain through his limbs. He could feel stiff wrappings encircling his abdomen, Chopper was probably going to chew him out for breaking his ribs again. His senses came back slowly, the harsh stinging smell of the antiseptic burning his nose hit him first. No doubt about it, he was in the sick bay. A loud roaring sound pulled Sanji further out of his slumber. What the hell was that? Were they still under attack? The persistent rumbling made him uneasy, it didn't sound human. And it was close. It took more effort than the cook would like to admit to pry his eyelids open. The noise was so close he could practically feel the bed vibrating from the deep noise. He cursed silently as he struggled to pull himself up, only to be met with the figure of a sleeping moss-head, snoring away in a chair beside him. The blonde frowned, why the hell was Zoro here? Sure they were pretty close, despite all the fighting Sanji and Zoro were probably the closest out of the whole crew, but never before did the shitty swordsman ever occupy his bedside. He sighed pulling his fingers through his hair, it would do him no good to try and decipher the whims of plants like Zoro. By the look of the sun and the growling in his stomach he should have started on dinner by now. His curled eyebrows furrowed, the attack happened right before dawn, had he really been out that long? He let out a weary sigh, those shitty marines must have done a real number on him. Every inch of his body protested as he pulled himself up, no injury could keep him from his kitchen. He spared a smirk and a chuckle at the sleeping swordsman before swinging his legs over the side of the bed, ideas for dinner racing through his mind.

His face met the hard wood of the floor with a loud thud. Zoro was up in an instant, eyes scanning the room quickly before landing on the cook collapsed on the floor.

"God dammit cook!"

Sanji blinked dazedly as Zoro gently pulled him off the floor and laid him back on the bed. What the hell was going on? His wounds weren't that serious, he should have been able to get up without the shitty swordsman coming to his rescue. Said moss-ball was giving him a look he never thought he'd see on the green-haired man's face. Worry. He blushed lightly as steely eyes wandered over his form. Sanji's heart began thundering away in his chest and an uneasy feeling coiled itself tightly in his stomach. His own eye followed the path Zoro's had taken, evaluating every injury etched into his skin, until they finally reached his legs.

His heart stopped.

Sanji reached a trembling hand down to the now empty pant leg. It all rushed back to him in an instant. He took the hit for Zoro. His leg was gone.

Someone was screaming.

The noise pounded into his head, reverberating inside his skull. This wasn't right. No. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was fine. The screaming wasn't stopping. It wasn't until Zoro wrapped his arms around his shaking form that he realized the noise was coming from him. He clutched the vacant cloth below his knee. He could _feel_ his leg.

Zoro still had his arms wrapped around Sanji, watching him grasp desperately at the empty fabric. The cook's scream eventually died down into harsh shuddering sobs that made the blonde's entire body quake. The swordsman clenched his jaw. Why the hell did this have to happen? He could have blocked that shitty marine. Even if he hadn't, there's no way the wound would have been fatal. He could feel the blonde's breathing becoming erratic. He pulled Sanji closer, awkwardly rubbing circles into his back. Shit, where the hell was Chopper? Sanji was trembling violently now, his wide blue eye never moving from his stump. Zoro's chest tightened painfully as he watched the blonde lay a pale shaking hand on the remains of his leg.

"Sanji…"

"I can feel it," the blonde murmured, his hand hovering above where his calf used to be. Wide blue eyes locking with the swordsman's.

The galley door swung open with a loud bang as their small doctor rushed in, arms full of medical instruments.

"What's going on?! What's wrong?! I heard screaming, Sanji are you in pain?!" While Chopper assailed Sanji with all kinds of tests the rest of the crew hesitantly filed in, eyes downcast. Zoro watched the cook carefully as he placed a crumpled, blood stained cigarette to his lips. As composed as the chef was trying to appear, his hands were still shaking violently.

Once. Twice. Three times. Sanji bit down on the filter as he tried to steady his hands enough to work his lighter.

Four times. Five times. He knew everyone was looking at him. Six times. Seven times.

"Sanji…"

He gripped the lighter tighter. He didn't like hearing his beautiful Nami saying his name like that. She was pitying him. They all were Eight times. Nine times.

A large tan hand covered his own as Zoro reached around and flicked it to life with ease on the first try.

Sanji stared at the small flame, but made no movement to light the stick perched between his lips. He wanted to scream. He wanted to yell and cry, but most of all he wanted to run. He didn't wanted to be in this room anymore. Suddenly the walls were bearing down incredibly close to him. He needed to get out. He couldn't breathe. Everyone was too close. Sweat started beading on his brow as he pulled out of the swordsman's hold and once again tried to stand.

He bit his lip to try and muffle the scream as he landed harshly on his stump, a white hot burst of pain erupting from his newly acquired injury. He grit his teeth, he needed to get dinner started. He was already late. Ignoring his crew's concerned protests he tried once again to pull himself up.

Zoro cringed when Sanji hit the ground once more. Damn cook was so stubborn. The blonde's shoulders started to shake again. Zoro clenched his jaw, looking away. He'd never seen the blonde cry before, and the sight more than unnerved him. A small giggle made his head snap back to the cook crumpled on the floor. Sanji was laughing.

He could stop the harsh laughter bubbling through his lips. This was just too much. He laughed harder, his entire body shaking. Fate really was a bitch sometimes

"…Sanji?"

The blonde clutched at his abdomen, his ribs crying out in agony, but he couldn't stop. "Just wait until that shitty geezer sees me now!" he said between bursts of giggles, "We're like a matched fucking set aren't we?!"

The wide grin plastered on the blonde's face sent a shiver down Zoro's spine.

"Maybe Franky could even make me a peg leg just like his!" The blonde rolled on his side, still laughing hysterically.

Nami was the first to leave, followed closely by Ussop, Brook, and Franky, filing out just as silently as they came in, eyes downcast. Tears started to leak out of the cook's eyes as his hysterics died down. His body ached more than before, but he couldn't bring himself to try and move anymore. What was the point? His leg was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

"I had Franky make these for you. It isn't much, but for now it'll have to do," Chopper said, holding out a pair of wooden crutches to the blonde, "At least this way you'll be able to move around on your own without too much assistance."

Sanji stared vacantly at the supports in his hand. Just hours ago he was a strong healthy fighter in the prime of his youth, and now he was reduced to this. He felt like he was going to throw up. He leaned the crutches against the wall behind him, looking at it just made his nausea worse.

"Are you alright Sanji?" Chopper asked softly, "you're looking a little pale…"

Zoro had to bite down on his tongue, fighting against the angry snarl trying to rip out of his mouth. Of course the cook wasn't alright. He'd never be alright again, legs don't just grow back. The empty smile that Sanji wore chilled him to the very core.

"I'm fine."

* * *

The ship was silent now, the sun having slunk down below the horizon only minutes earlier. From the small window in the sick bay he could see the moonlight reflecting off of the ocean. Sanji let out a breath he felt like he'd been holding since he woke up. It had been the longest few hours of his life. Nobody wanted to let him be. It always seemed like _somebody_ needed to talk to him. _Somebody_ constantly needed to be there to remind Sanji that he was still their cook, and that this didn't change anything, that he would be able to function just fine without the absent appendage. The blonde's face ached from the fake smile he plastered to his face all evening. The only one that hadn't tried to shove false assurances down his throat was the shitty moss head. Sanji's gaze shifted to the now empty chair at his bedside. Zoro had stayed there with him the entire time, glowering at anyone that came in. For once Sanji was grateful for the swordsman's baleful presence, it made sure that no one stayed for too long. Sanji tried suppress the small ache in his chest at the sight of the empty chair. What the hell was he expecting? Zoro to keep some sort of vigil like some concerned woman?

_Like what you did after Thriller Bark._

Sanji shook his head vigorously, this was a much different circumstance. It wasn't the moss-head's responsibility to watch over him. They weren't like that. Ignoring another pang in his chest the cook pulled himself up, listening closely for any movement on the deck. A few moments passed as the cook listened to the faint footsteps of their sharpshooter as he headed to the crow's nest for the first watch of the night. Sanji hoped it wasn't too cold out tonight, the cook usually prepared a thermos of something warm for Ussop on the nights he had watch. Sometimes he'd even sit up there with him and listen to the liar's tall tales. He looked down at the empty space under his blanket. Would he still be able to do simple things like that now? His fists clenched around the stiff cotton sheets. He couldn't even fucking walk, how could he even think about climbing the mess of the rigging? How was he going to cook like this? The blonde threw off his sheets angrily, grabbing at the wooden crutches propped against the wall. The room had grown stuffy and uncomfortably small. Tucking the supports under his arms he started making his way out. Each slow, awkward hop across the floor made his blood boil.

This was going to be his life now.

Strong ocean winds whipped around his head as soon as he pushed the door open. He sighed gratefully as the cool air wove its way into his sweat drenched hair. The sea was calm tonight, not a single cloud marred the vast expanse of the sky above him. With some difficulty Sanji managed to lower himself to the floor. The cold of the wood seeped into his clothes, sending a pleasing shiver down his spine as he sprawled out on the deck. Memories flashed through his mind of late nights with Zeff on the Baratie, tear stained eyes following the geezer's old wrinkled finger as he traced the constellations. For the first time in what felt like days a very small, but very real, smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

Zoro looked around the darkened galley, a deep frown marring his features. It just wasn't the same without that shitty cook here. He should be sitting at the table right now, writing in that damn journal of his. Or at the stove making coco or soup for whoever was on watch. Or trying to kick Zoro's head in for trying to take the good sake without permission. The swordsman scowled at the silence that fell over the galley as he snatched the bottle. Ripping the cork out with his teeth and taking a long swig he could tell that this probably cost the cook a pretty penny. The liquid burned down his throat all the way to his stomach, but it couldn't eliminate the chill that seemed to linger. It was as if the stillness in air had become a solid mass, pressing heavy on the swordsman's chest. His hand clenched around the bottle, his body tensing for the kick that never came. It just wasn't the same without that stupid curly cook. He stormed through the dining room, his footfalls echoing loudly in the emptiness of the large room, before stopping in front of the door leading to the infirmary. His free hand hung in the air between himself and the knob. Why the hell was he hesitating? It was just Sanji. It was the same annoying blonde that he'd known for all these years, so why was he feeling so uneasy? His stomach churned uncomfortably as he gripped the knob and pushed through the door.

The bottle slipped from his slackened fingers and fell to the floor with a loud thud as his wide eyes darted around the sick bay in a panic. Where the hell was the shitty cook?

Sanji didn't flinch when he heard the door behind swing open harshly. That damn moss head was as subtle as an earthquake.

"Oi cook," he snarled, storming over to the blonde, "what the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Sanji exhaled a lungful of smoke, "What does it look like shitty swordsman?" He couldn't just enjoy the night, could he? The universe really was against him today.

"You need to be resting shitty cook," the swordsman growled, "I'm not sure if you noticed, but you lost your fucking leg."

Sanji winced. "Oh, really? Thanks for the update," He said bitterly, taking a long drag of his cigarette. Blue eyes shifted to the looming figure of the swordsman, "why are you here Zoro?"

The green haired man rubbed his neck awkwardly, "just couldn't sleep and decided to go for a walk. Is that a problem cook?" Sanji raised a curled brow at the larger man. Since when did the moss-head have trouble falling asleep? The guy could doze off anywhere at any time without a problem during the day. Sanji's eyes narrowed. The swordsman refused to meet his eye, and even in the pale moonlight he could swear there was a faint dusting of pink on the moss-head's cheeks.

"You were worried about me, weren't you shitty swordsman?"

Zoro stiffened, he could feel his face growing hotter, "no! I was just-" his words died in his mouth when he saw the small grin pulling at the corner of Sanji's lips. That weight that had been building on his chest all day finally lifted off as the cook let out a light laugh.

"Thanks moss-head" he whispered, shifting his gaze back to the night sky, "for having my back today. And for worrying." Warmth spread through Sanji's cheeks. Maybe he was still feeling the effects of Chopper's drugs, or maybe he was still recovering from blood loss, but his thoughts were flowing freely off of his tongue, "it helped today, having you there. I'm really glad you stayed with me."

The blonde jumped when he felt Zoro settle down next to him, "don't thank me cook," he grumbled, tucking his arms behind his head, "it's what you and I do for each other. We don't need to be in a fight for me to have your back." He could feel Sanji's wide eyed stare, but refused to meet it. He cleared his throat awkwardly, "so, what the hell is so interesting about the stars anyway?" He exhaled gratefully when the blonde's eyes shifted skywards.

"Don't you know what constellations are?" Sanji snickered, smoke curling from his lips.

The swordsman scoffed, "obviously if they were important I would have known about them."

The blonde chuckled shaking his head, "they aren't really important, but they tell a story."

Sanji had a wide grin on his face as he told Zoro about the great hero Perseus and his true love Andromeda and how they came to rest amongst the stars. The swordsman watched the cook carefully. The way his eyes lit up and his hands moved in excited motions painting pictures of ancient sea monsters and snake haired women. That look rarely appeared on the cook's face anymore, only when someone talked to him about the All Blue would his eyes really light up light this. In the glow of the moonlight they seemed almost luminescent. He pointed out the winged horse Pegasus and bears Ursa Major and Minor, the archer Sagittarius,

"He was a centaur Y'know," he said enthusiastically, before chattering off about astrological signs and the constellations that went with them.

Zoro smiled to himself, finally allowing himself to relax, the tension in his stomach had finally uncoiled. He watched the blonde even as his movements grew sluggish and his eyelids drooped. He watched until the Sanji fell asleep, a small smile still painted on his lips.


	3. Chapter 3

"How soon can you finish this Franky?" the cook asked excitedly, his eyes eagerly scanning the blue prints. With this all of his troubles would be solved, for the first time in days Sanji allowed himself a little hope.

Zoro eyed Sanji worriedly. It had been nearly a week since the marine attack and the blonde was just getting worse and worse. He rarely left the galley anymore. He wouldn't eat with the crew, and Ussop was now the one in charge of delivering the ladies their afternoon snacks. The only crew member that really got to stay with Sanji was Zoro. Grey eyes raked over the form of the cook sitting across from him. He'd lost weight. It was more than obvious with the way his once perfectly tailored suit hung off his frame awkwardly. His cheeks had developed hollows that weren't there before and were decorated with a light blonde stubble that had started to develop. What worried Zoro the most however, were his eyes. The eyes he had seen on the deck that first night, those brilliant bright eyes, had dimmed and faded until they seemed almost empty. Looking at them now, framed by dark bags, they had almost taken on a shade of grey.

"It'll take a while. I can't just pull a robotic leg out of thin air," Franky said nervously, "and even when I do complete it, the surgery will be very risky. We could end up doing more harm than good."

Sanji beamed at the shipwright, the smile seeming out of place on his gaunt face, "I don't have much else to lose."

"Sanji don't say that!" Chopper squeaked from beside the swordsman, "you're lucky I was able to save that much! You don't have any permanent nerve damage, and at least this way it'll be easy to fit you with a prosthetic."

The cook bit down on the filter of his cigarette, "this is my decision Chopper," he said darkly, "I'm willing to take the risk."

Franky shook his head sadly, "look bro, I can't do a surgery like this, Chopper has to do it. And if he feels like it's risky in any way then it's not happening. I'm nearly done with your prosthetic, so just wait a bit. "

Sanji clenched his fists under the table. This could be his chance. Everything could go back to how it was. "Fine," he spat through his teeth, "do whatever you need to do. Just please," he said, pleading eyes turning to Chopper, "please. Do whatever you can to make this work." The cook grabbed his crutches and, standing from the table awkwardly, turned to leave, with Franky yelling after him about how 'super' his leg would be.

He closed the galley door behind him, gulping in the fresh air greedily. He felt like he was going to throw up again, and his stump was aching painfully. He pinched the bride of his nose between his fingers, he could feel a headache coming on. From where he stood he could see almost every member of the crew, save Franky, Chopper, and the moss-ball, on the lawn of the Sunny. Even though the air had turned a bitter cold a few days before, nothing could put a damper on Luffy's antics. Sanji allowed himself a little smile at their captain and sharpshooter, before turning and heading to the bath.

* * *

Sanji sighed as his cold skin slid into the steaming water, he could practically feel the tension melting off of him. Now a days not even his cooking could relax him like it used to. Moving between the stove and sinks and the counter and the refrigerator was arduous to say the least. He missed the way he used to be able to move around the kitchen with such ease. He slid lower into the tub, hand massaging his aching stump, but no amount of kneading could dissipate the twisting pain that lingered just below his severed leg.

Phantom limb.

That's what Chopper had called it.

_"I'm sorry Sanji, there's nothing I can do for that," the small doctor looked to him sadly, "your body just has to adjust."_

Closing his eyes he could swear he could feel the warmth of the water on his nonexistent leg. It would trick him at times, making him want to lean on a leg that wouldn't be there to catch him, or kick with a foot that would leave no impact. He grimaced as an unusually painful burst of pain shot up his leg. He rubbed his stump more furiously now, hoping to ease the ache at least a little bit. It wasn't bad enough that he'd lost his leg, but now it seemed like his own body was mocking him. Teasing him with wisps of feeling. Feather light touches that would send shivers up his spine or a lingering itch that he'd never be able to reach.

Taking a deep breath he submerged his head under the water, reveling in the warmth that enveloped him. He was as weightless as ever in the water, suspended there he could move with ease despite his missing leg. At least that wouldn't change.

Suddenly a large tan hand broke through the surface of the water and wrapped around Sanji's arm, hauling him harshly out of the bath. The blonde flinched when his bare skin slammed into the cool tile, "What the hell moss-head?!" he said, a light blush covering his cheeks as he reached for a towel to cover himself.

Zoro just gaped stupidly at the cook, "I thought you were drowning." As soon as the swordsman entered and caught sight of the flash of gold under the water his body just acted. He could feel an embarrassed flush creep up his neck as Sanji's eyes narrowed at him.

"Just because I'm missing my leg doesn't mean I'm going to drown in the bath tub you shitty swordsman," the blonde snarled.

"I know that!" Zoro snapped, trying to avert his eyes from the very naked cook on the floor, "I just… I panicked alright?"

Sanji sighed, pulling himself back toward the edge of the tub, letting his lone foot dangle over the edge "since when do_ you_ panic?" Sanji mumbled, kicking his good leg idly in the water. When no response came blue eyes flicked up to the swordsman. The color had drained from Zoro's face, his gaze locked on the now visible stump.

His stomach was churning, but he couldn't look away. He felt unsteady on his feet and he walked over and knelt down next to the cook. His hand was shaking as he reached out and laid it down on Sanji's leg, "It's gone," he murmured, almost to himself "it's really gone." The reality of what had happened finally crashed over the swordsman as his calloused fingers ran over the stitches sewn into Sanji's pale flesh. They'd never fight together again. There would be no more friendly clashes of swords and feet. No more watching the cook's crazy acrobatics. Zoro's stomach sank all the way to his feet. He wouldn't have Sanji there to cover his back in battle anymore.

"Zoro…"

Without another word, the swordsman stood up and walked out of the bath, not even sparing a glance to the hurt look in Sanji's eye.


	4. Chapter 4

The shitty swordsman was avoiding him.

It was obvious Zoro was going out of his way to avoid the cook, not that it was hard. After the bath incident Sanji basically barricaded himself in the kitchen, only leaving at night and early in the morning to smoke. No one had seen him in days. The only evidence the rest of the crew had that he was alright were the daily meals calls. The food would be set up ornately, and the table set, but no Sanji. Meals had become subdued, a melancholy air lingered in the galley that seemed to overwhelm even Luffy's appetite.

Sanji's stomach growled loudly as the sweet smell of fruit tarts danced around his nose. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. His appetite was nonexistent, not even the tantalizing sweets could coax him to eat. It's not like he deserved the indulgence anyway. He was just the cook now. Struggling with his crutches the blonde bent down, popping the pastries in the oven to bake before grabbing his lighter and stepping outside. It was still early, the sun had barely crested the horizon painting the sky a royal blue. Setting his crutches aside he leaned heavily against the railing, letting the gentle ebb and flow of the waves calm his fraying nerves. He had to remind himself its better this way. It hurt. Isolating himself from his crew, his family. But he just couldn't bear to burden them, he couldn't let them see him struggle like this. It needed to be this way.

"Sanji?"

The cook stiffened at the familiar voice of the sharp shooter.

Ussop couldn't believe the person in front of him was their cook. His posture was hunched and broken, the usual suit was replaced by a large sweater and sweat pants that only seemed to emphasize how thin he had become in the past two weeks. The blonde hair that Sanji had taken so much pride in looked dull and unkempt. The dark circles surrounding the cook's eyes were a startling contrast to the pale graying skin on his cheeks.

The sniper swallowed thickly, "Um thanks for leaving out that soup last night," he said, extending the thermos toward the cook with a shaking hand, "it was perfect as usual," he tried to chuckle but it got stuck in his throat when he met Sanji's eye.

The cook's lips stretched into a small smile, "I'm glad," he said softly, turning back toward the sea, "I'm sorry I wasn't able to sit up there with you."

"T-that's alright," the sniper laughed uneasily, "It's not so bad being up there alone. It gives a man time to think you know?" Sanji exhaled a lungful of smoke, but said nothing more to the sniper. "So I'll just put this in the kitchen...?" he said, lowering the thermos and taking a shaky step backward. The brief nod was all Ussop needed before he bolted out of the blonde's presence. He quickly tossed the empty thermos on the counter, not wanting to linger in the eerily quiet galley any longer than necessary, before sprinting to the boy's quarters. He slammed the door harshly and pressed his back against the wood, supporting him more than his trembling legs were at the moment. His heart was pounding in his ears and a familiar anxiety coiled in his stomach.

"Oi, what's your problem?" Zoro's deep voice rumbled from the couch.

"Sanji…" the sniper breathed out.

The swordsman's features immediately twisted into a scowl, "leave the damn cook alone," he muttered angrily, pulling himself off the couch, "he just needs time to himself-"

"When was the last time you saw him?"

The fear that laced Ussop' words made him lift his head. The sniper looked absolutely horrified. Almost like he'd seen a ghost. Zoro felt his blood run cold as every muscle in his body seemed to tense.

"We can't leave him alone like that," the sharpshooter continued, his voice starting to sound panicked, rousing the others from there sleep. "How could we let this happen?"

* * *

Sanji flicked the spent butt of his cigarette over the railing, watching the still smoking filter arc into the sea. They should be done eating by now, the sooner he started on dishes the better. Grabbing his crutches he slowly made his way to the galley to survey the damage done. As expected every last crumb of food was gone, leaving behind a skeleton of bare china. Sanji sighed, setting aside one of his crutches, this was always the hard part. Carrying as many dishes as he could on his right arm he made his way to the sink, hop by painstaking hop. It took nearly thirty minutes for the exhausted blonde to clear the table.

"Shit…" he cursed under his breath as he collapsed in a chair, it seemed like every day this got harder instead of easier. He took deep breaths trying to keep the room from spinning around him and his hands from shaking. He only had a few more dishes to go. If his shitty body would stop being so weak he could probably get the rest in one trip. Leaning heavily on the crutch tucked under his left arm he carefully stacked the dishes.

He really should have known they were too heavy.

His arm was shaking under the strain, and the room was beginning to tilt, but he was so close. He was only a few hops away when his leg crumpled beneath him, pulling the blonde harshly to the floor. The beautiful ivory plates flew from his hands and crashed loudly to floor, shattering into hundreds of pure white shards.

There was a heavy silence as Sanji dazedly looked around at the fractured white china littering the floor. He made no move to get up. He sat there amongst the shards of porcelain, fighting the bitter tears that threatened to spill over.

The rushed footsteps of his crewmates snapped him back to reality. He needed to clean this up before anyone saw. As quickly as he could manage he started gathering handfuls of the ruined china, ignoring the way the jagged dishware bit into his palms.

There was a hesitant knock at the galley door, "Sanji? Is everything okay?"

The worried voice of their navigator made his heart clench painfully, "y-yes of course!" he said, trying his best to feign enthusiasm, "I only dropped a plate, please don't trouble yourselves." He scrambled to get to his feet trying to keep balanced on his crutch with both hands full, "I'll have this cleaned up in no time Nami!"

On the other side of the door the redhead shot her crew a look of concern. Something was definitely wrong.

"We need to go in there!" Ussop whispered urgently

Zoro rolled his eyes, "you heard the cook, he said he's fine. We should just leave him alone."

Ussop glared at the swordsman, he opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by another harsh crash in the galley. Without any more hesitation the crew pushed themselves through the door. Time seemed to freeze for a moment as the straw hats took in the scene with wide eyes. Sanji was collapsed on the floor, struggling to get off the floor, surrounded by blood stained pieces dishware.

Ussop hadn't been exaggerating. The moment the cook lifted his head there was an audible gasp from Nami, her eyes blown wide. Zoro clenched his fists, he didn't think the shitty cook would get this bad. He looked like a god damned corpse. Dead but breathing.

"Sanji, your hands," Chopper squeaked softly, from behind the swordsman.

The blonde blinked slowly at the doctor before turning his hands to look at his bloodied, cut up palms. He lifted his head back to the crew scanning their shocked faces before falling on the glowering visage of the swordsman.

"I'm sorry," he whispered softly.

Zoro clenched his fists and stormed out of the galley. He had seen enough. Stupid shitty cook!

_I'm sorry_

He shook his head vigorously, trying to rid himself of the sickly image of the cook. It wasn't right. God dammit, it wasn't supposed to be this way!

_I'm sorry_

* * *

Sanji was silent as Chopper carefully wrapped his hands. The look on Zoro's face before he left the galley had really been the last straw.

_Disgust._

The moment the swordsman's back was to him the tears had finally breached the blonde's defenses.

_He thinks your weak now_

He was too tired to try and hold them back now. All of his emotions poured out in unrelenting streams that lined his pale features.

_You're just a waste of his time now_

His whole crew was close by, trying to show their support in any way they could. Nami had her delicate arm wrapped around his shoulder, whispering small soothing words while Ussop flanked his other side, rubbing his back every so often and passing Chopper whatever bandages he needed. Their captain sat on the floor, his head resting against Sanji's remaining knee as he watched their small doctor deftly remove small bits of porcelain that had embedded themselves into the cook's skin. He could hear soft shuffle of movement in the kitchen, where Franky was helping Robin make some soup for the withered blonde. Even brook was there, playing a soft delicate tune on his violin that Sanji instantly recognized as a folk song from the North Blue. Everyone was here. But even they couldn't fill the immense emptiness in his chest left by the swordsman's absence.

"I'm sorry Sanji, but I don't think we can leave you alone anymore," Chopper said seriously, tying off the last bandage "I don't think you've realized how much you're hurting yourself, physically and emotionally!"

The rest of the crew nodded in agreement, "don't worry Sanji," their captain smiled up at him, "we'll all be here to support you."

Sanji gave Luffy, and the rest of the crew a small smile. He appreciated what they were trying to do, he really did, but they just didn't understand.

"He'll come around Sanji, just give him time,"

The blonde's head snapped toward a smiling Luffy.

"Trust me," he chuckled, "knowing Zoro, he's probably putting all on the blame for this on himself. He just needs some times to sort through his feelings. Just wait a bit."

Sanji stared wide eyed at their captain. Where the hell did Luffy hide his insight all the time? The cook should have known Zoro would try to take responsibility for everything, damn moss for brains.

He missed him.


	5. Chapter 5

"SAAAAANJIII!"

The cook let out an exasperated sigh. What now?

"SAAAANJJIIII, ARE YOU DONE WITH LUNCH YET?" Nami's voice called, "WE'RE GOING TO EAT OUTSIDE TODAY, SO JUST BRING THE FOOD OUT TO THE LAWN PLEASE!"

Sanji bit down on the filter of his cigarette, "SURE THING NAMI!" he yelled back through clenched teeth.

Couldn't he have any peace anymore?

For the past few days everywhere he turned an overly enthusiastic crewmate was there to help out, or 'bond' as Franky liked to call it whenever the shipwright invaded his once relaxing baths. He knew they were trying to help, he really did, however they were doing more harm than good. He felt like he was being babysat. He had to be watched during mealtimes to make sure he was eating, and he was constantly being checked on to make sure he was sleeping. They wouldn't even let him set the table anymore. He fought hard with Chopper about being allowed to cook meals. He'd be forever indebted to Robin for siding with him on that, if not he probably would be locked out of his kitchen right now.

Sanji grumbled to himself as he started stacking their lunch on large serving trays, why the hell were they eating outside today anyway? Was Luffy TRYING to get everyone sick? They were close to a winter island, it was fucking _snowing_ earlier. He shook his head, gathering up as many trays of food as he could carry. He never knew what his captain was thinking, he probably never would. No point in getting angry about it.

He cursed quietly to himself as a gust of icy wind bombarded him the moment he stepped out of the kitchen, hitting him like a slap in the face. Sanji hated the cold, its harsh bite never failing to pull forward northern memories. He hobbled forward slowly with only one crutch tucked under his left arm, being extra careful not to drop the large platter of sandwiches he was balancing on his right. He grumbled angrily, figures, the one time he actually NEEDS the help there isn't a crewmate to be found. Just his luck. He approached the stairs warily, of all the things Sanji had faced in his challenges of single leggedness, the stairs had been his greatest enemy. He took it slowly, step by step, making sure to keep the food balanced on his arm carefully. It was nearly five minutes until Sanji reached the bottom of the stairs safely, out of breath, but safely. When he had two legs he never even spared stairs a second thought, funny how things like that can change. He hopped over to their navigator, who was desperately trying to keep a table cloth from being blown away in the cold winds.

"Oh wow! Thanks Sanji!" the navigator beamed, flashing her biggest (and obviously faked) smile, "they look so delicious!"

The blonde tried his best not to roll his eyes at the forced enthusiasm. Usually he would never think of being so rude to one of his delicate flowers, but it seemed as though his patience was blown away with his leg. He gave the red head a quick nod before heading back toward the galley, there was a lot of food to be brought down and not much time. He could already hear Luffy's impatient calls for meat. He hurried up the stairs as fast as he could, grateful that he could at least use the support of the railing on the way up. With each trip made Sanji got more confident on the stairs, moving up and down quicker and easier each time.

One tray left. He had taken a while, so the crew, minus Zoro, had already started digging in. The only thing that was remaining now was the decadent apple strudel he had made this morning. Sanji allowed himself a small smile, the timing was perfect. The dessert was one of his specialties, and it would be the prefect thing for a cold day like this. He carefully pulled the pastry out of the oven, letting the sweet smells of apples and cinnamon fill his head, making his mouth water. The crust looked perfectly flaky and buttery, and the temperature was just right for this weather. Hot enough to warm you up, but not so hot as to burn your mouth. He headed out of the galley wearing a bright smile, carrying his flawless dessert carefully. Even if his leg was gone, even if he couldn't fight anymore, he was still the best damn chef on the grand line.

The cook's smile faltered when he reached the stairs, hesitating for a moment. Maybe he should call for Ussop to help him…

_NO! _

The blonde shook his head furiously trying to banish the thought away. He had brought down everything else just fine. This was his chance, he wanted to be the one to carry in his culinary masterpiece. This was his moment to show that he was still useful. That he didn't need to be a burden on anyone.

His heart was racing as he moved quickly from step to step. He just knew that the chilled air was sapping the heat from his beautiful dessert. He needed to hurry.

* * *

Zorro was napping at the back of ship, the cold air not deterring his rest in any way. He knew Luffy had tried to plan this 'picnic' to try and get everyone closer again. And by everyone he meant himself and the shitty cook. The swordsman let out a frustrated huff tilting his head back to look at the dense sheet of gray blanketing the sky. He wasn't mad at Sanji. No, he was the farthest thing from it. As much as he didn't want to admit it, this was affecting him more than it should have been. Every time Zoro laid eyes on the cook his stomach would twist into knots. Anger, frustration, sadness, fear, and worry seemed to boil over inside of him, creating a caustic cocktail of emotions. Everything just felt so wrong. Sanji had been so strong, one of the best fighters he'd ever met. He loved sparring with him, and the thought of going into battle without the blonde at his back just didn't feel right. Zoro sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He fucking missed that annoying blonde.

_"Chopper put him on suicide watch you know,"_ Nami's voice echoed in his head. _"You saw the way he looked in there Zoro! You saw his hands!" The redhead was glaring at him, "How can you ignore him right now?"_

_ Nami waited for an answer then shook her head sadly as the swordsman kept lifting weights._

_ "He needs you Zoro."_

His stomach growled loudly and he let out another annoyed sigh. Maybe going to this stupid thing wasn't such a bad idea.

As soon as the swordsman pulled himself to his feet, the sound of their doctor's shriek made his head snap toward the lawn.

"SANJI!"

He bolted toward the deck without a moment's hesitation, heart thrumming loudly in his ears, adrenaline humming through his veins. That damn cook better be alright.

What Zoro found when he reached the top of the stairs made his blood run cold.

_No. _

He had to bite back the bile rising up in his throat at the sight of Sanji crumpled in a heap at the foot of the stairs.

He wasn't moving.

* * *

Someone was calling his name.

Sanji groaned. His head was pounding, and there was a loud ringing in his ears that just wasn't going away. What the hell happened?

He could hear someone yelling for him, but they sounded so far away. The blonde forced his eyelids open, blinking a few times to focus on the grey sky above him.

It was snowing.

Someone was calling his name.

They sounded a lot closer now. There was a distinct hoarseness in the voice that even in his semi-conscious state he could pick up on. They were in pain. Bleary eyed he looked around, trying to find the voice when something warm and wet landed on his forehead. He furrowed his brow. That definitely wasn't snow. Sanji tilted his head back, wincing slightly as the movement made his head throb, until his eyes caught sight of a figure kneeling over him. Sanji's eyes went wide.

"Zoro?"

The swordsman's eyes shot open at the sound of the cook's voice, "Sanji? Sanji, can you hear me?" he asked desperately. He could feel the rest of the crew watching him, but he didn't give a shit what they were thinking right now.

The blonde blinked at him, confusion clear on his face, "you're not Zoro," he slurred angrily, "who the fuck are you?"

The swordsman's jaw dropped, "what the fuck are you saying shitty cook?"

Sanji had closed his eyes shaking his head lightly, "nuh uh," he said, "Zoro doesn't cry. I don't even thinks he has tear ducts," he mumbled.

"Hey, hey stay with me now cook!" Zoro yelled shaking the blonde slightly until he opened his eyes, "Chopper what's wrong with him?"

"He seems to be delirious," the small reindeer said, leaning in to gently examine the blonde's head, "it's probably a concussion."

"You're not Zoro," the blonde mumbled again looking at the swordsman with glazed over eyes, "he hates me." Every muscle in the swordsman's body seemed to stiffen at those words, but the blonde continued, "He hates me now that I'm a _cripple_," he spat the word out bitterly, averting his eyes from Zoro's, "he probably doesn't even want me on the ship anymore."

The words were whispered, but they hit Zoro with more force than one of Sanji's kicks ever could. It felt like his chest was collapsing in on itself, "Sanji I-"

"My strudel," the cook said suddenly, his hazy blue eyes growing wide, "My strudel, it was perfect. Is it okay?" he asked his voice growing panicked, "where is it!" He shouted struggling against Zoro and Chopper who were trying to keep him still.

"Goddammit cook, it's just a stupid pastry!"

Sanji froze, the swordsman could feel the muscles tightening under his hold. "It was perfect," he mumbled again sadly, "It was so perfect..." the blonde's muscles suddenly went slack under his hands as Sanji started to drift out of consciousness.

"Oi cook! Sanji! Wake up asshole!"

"Zoro," Chopper said softly, resting a small hoof on his arm, "he's going to be fine, I promise. Just let him rest for now."

The swordsman nodded stiffly, fists clenched at his side. He should have been here. He should have been there with the shitty cook, he was supposed to have his back.

Carefully, Zoro scooped up Sanji's limp frame, and followed Chopper to the infirmary. But even when they got to the sick bay, the swordsman would not release his hold on the cook. He kept his arms wrapped around the Sanji's slim waist the whole time chopper was examining him, only slackening his hold when the doctor asked him to.

Chopper looked back at the pair, now asleep on the cot. Zoro will still holding onto Sanji protectively, he could see from where he stood that the swordsman's eyes were still raw from crying. The doctor sighed extinguishing the light and closing the door softly behind him. Zoro was a great fighter, but he was always so slow on stuff like this. Chopper shook his head as he headed back out toward the rest of the crew.

Zoro's eyes opened once Chopper closed the door, exhaling a long breath. With the small doctor gone the swordsman took his time examining the blonde in his arms. While the scruffy beard was gone, it didn't look like Sanji had improved at all over the last few days. The green haired man frowned as his finger traced the heavy bags under the cook's eyes, trailing down to the hollows in his cheeks. Guilt welled in the swordsman's chest and his arms instinctively tightened around the cook.

God dammit Sanji.


End file.
